


Caffeine and Gremlins

by Gia279



Series: 5+1 Things [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5 +1, Five Plus One Things, Fluff, Gremlins, M/M, Poltergeists, Self indulgence, no real plot I suppose, sneaky established relationship, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 12:44:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4835867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gia279/pseuds/Gia279
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Or The Five Times Stiles Stayed Up all Night With the aid of Monster, and the one Time a Monster Helped him Sleep)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caffeine and Gremlins

**Author's Note:**

> :D I finished handwriting Nature of the Beast and to reward myself wrote another 5+1. Hope you enjoy it! [rebekahdarian](http://archiveofourown.org/users/rebekahdarian) helped me edit, as per usual.

**1**

Stiles came into the apartment carrying two cases of Monster energy drinks. Scott was unimpressed.

“Just stocking up. I’m falling behind. I’ve got to study for a test, and I’ve got papers due for psych and ethics. And…” He paused, face twisting as he tried to remember. “Criminal Justice? I’ve got to study,” he finished. “Got a lot to do.” 

Scott rolled his eyes. “I’ve got a lot to do, too,” he pointed out, lifting his biology book.

“Yes, and I would share my Monster, but I don’t think it’d work for you. It’s not like I won’t be awake anyway,” Stiles babbled. “I can’t sleep _anyway_. This will just make it so I can focus on studying while I’m up. Three papers! I’ve got three papers due this week!” He started loading the fridge with Monsters.

Besides wilting lettuce and questionable sliced turkey, there wasn’t much in there anyway, so Stiles felt no guilt stocking it full of his energy drinks.

“Dude,” Scott said scornfully when he popped one open.

“What? I’m going to my room.”

“It _stinks_ ,” Scott complained.

“I’m _going_ ,” Stiles insisted, grabbing his bag from beside the couch on his way.

He dropped at his wobbly desk and woke his laptop, flexing his hands. He wasn’t even sure what he was going to write his paper on. 

With a loud sigh, he took two swallows of his Monster and pulled out his text book and notes to study for the test he had in the morning.

As expected, he didn’t sleep. His alarm for his first class went off at 7:15. He shot off to shower before Scott could beat him there, then bolted to the kitchen to grab another Monster. He shouted to Scott to let him know he was leaving, locking the door behind him. 

“You didn’t even sleep, did you?” Scott hissed as he caught up to him. 

“I’ll be fine. I’ll take a nap during my lunch,” he said, finishing off the Monster. He felt wide awake, if a little distant. “Got a test. See you soon.” 

Kira asked if he could help her study during lunch. He drank another Monster and buckled down. It was good. He chose his subject for his psych paper. When he got home after classes, he was too wired to sleep, so he got a jump start on the paper.

He could sleep at a reasonable time that night.  
 

 

**2**

He was just starting to yawn at around 9pm when Scott started texting him.

 _Dude! Gremlins! Calling Derek. What do you know about them? Bring info._ At the bottom of the text was an address.

Stiles yawned hard and looked the address up. It was some electronics supply store close to the school.

Scrubbing his burning eyes, Stiles opened another Monster and his laptop, typing gremlins into the search bar. 

He had to sift through movie references and internet trolls before he found what could be helpful information. He hit print and went to the kitchen to drink a little water. 

 

He met Scott, Kira, Isaac, and Derek at the store, which was closed.

“Gremlins disabled the alarms and the cameras,” Scott said, his face tight as he peered into the shop window.

“How do we get rid of them?” Derek asked.

A loud crash came from the store, followed by tinny, wild laughter. 

“They’re the supernatural equivalent of a termite problem. But they’re fast. You have to knock them out in order to remove them. Most of the websites said that gas would work,” Stiles said, “or, if that isn’t an option, something organic.” 

“So sticks. Hit them…with sticks.” Isaac rolled his eyes. “Great.”

“Well, they’d likely be trying to take apart anything _metal_ ,” Stiles snapped.

There was another _bang_ from the store, a flash of bright white light, and a _pop!_ that made the werewolves flinch.

“Okay, so we’ll just…” Scott went to a tree and broke a branch off. He winced guiltily at the crack, looking around.

“Break it in two. You and Isaac can split one, and Kira and Derek can split one,” Stiles said dully. “I’ve got my bat.” He shook it slightly.

“Okay. We’ll go in the front door.”

“Wait,” Stiles blurted as something occurred to him. He felt slow and dumb, and took another swig of his drink before speaking. “What are we doing with them once we knock them out?” 

Scott looked blank.

This resulted in a 20 minute scramble for some duffle bags and info, during which Stiles and Derek stood watch outside the store. Stiles read his printed pages and drank the last of his Monster.

“You seem tired,” Derek said, flinching at another crash-pop-laugh from the store.

Stiles held up his energy drink. “I’m good. I can feel it working.” He smiled. “I’ve been busy, I know I haven’t—”

“Back,” Scott said, holding up a couple duffle bags. One was violently orange.

Isaac also had two.

Kira had an answer. “I called Lydia. She said we should knock them out and keep them in the bags until morning, then let the sunlight get them. If they get burned, they’ll remember this area caused them pain.” 

“What? Really?” Isaac asked, crossing his arms.

“They’re not super intelligent,” Stiles explained. “They’re smart enough to remember getting burned—sunlight will cause them lasting scars, I bet—and they’ll stay away.”

Kira nodded. “That’s what Lydia said, too.”

“Okay, then. Don’t let them out as we go in,” Scott said. 

They didn’t have the time to be cautious—Scott opened the door wide enough to fit through and they all rushed in behind him, squashing together so they wouldn’t let anything out.

In the dark, Stiles could make out splintered electronics and little crawling things throughout the store. When the door shut, bright green eyes flicked toward them, big and oval. 

“They’re fast and have sharp teeth, but they’re not venomous,” Stiles said, just as something crawled up his leg and sank needle-sharp teeth into his thigh. He yelped and smacked it with his bat. It flopped against his leg, little claws dug into his jeans. 

Someone took it and dropped it into a duffle bag.

“Thanks,” he muttered. 

It was worse from there. The gremlins seemed to think they were playing a game, started squeaking something that sounded like “oolfies” and swarmed the werewolves, biting ankles and crawling up their chests.

Kira took out the most of them, wielding her branch like she did her sword. The gremlins didn’t seem to know what to make of her, so they focused on the wolves, which gave her the opportunity to knock them unconscious.

Stiles swung his bat at one that crawled onto Derek’s back. He was too slow—he smacked Derek between the shoulders.

Derek lurched forward with the force of it, stepping on one of the gremlins. It let out a high-pitched shriek, struggling under his boot wildly. He dropped his branch on its head. 

“Sorry,” Stiles whispered, reaching for his shoulder. 

Little teeth dug into his palm, latching on like a pit bull. He howled and shook his hand. 

Derek hit it with the branch. Blood seeped down Stiles’s fingers. 

“I hate these things,” he muttered. 

Derek nodded and bagged the three he’d knocked out. 

It took them until 4am to catch all of the gremlins. The duffle bags bulged with them. 

Stiles was the only one bleeding at the end of it, of course. He was also having trouble keeping his eyes open. He looked at his bleeding hand, then at the wreckage of the electronics store.

“They broke the cameras,” he said. “They’ll assume someone broke in. Teenagers. Students.” He sagged against a wall. 

Scott nodded. “They didn’t destroy _everything_. Lot of merchandise damage, but…could have been worse.” 

Stiles looked up. “Should we get somewhere we can put these things in the sun?”

“Yeah, come on.”

They took Stiles’s jeep, because of course they did. 

They found a little grassy area where none of the houses nearby could see them and dumped the little things out just as the sun started to rise.

They were ugly-cute, Stiles thought—tight grayish green skin, big floppy bat ears and sharp little fingers ending in pointed fingernails. 

The sun rose. Their skin burned with a smell like rotten eggs, and they woke with tinny shrieks. They started chattering at each other, snapping blood stained needle-teeth, and they snarled up at the wolves. Scott flashed his eyes and snarled back. They took off in a little cloud of nails and green skin, running toward the trees. 

“That was a weird night.” Stiles rubbed a hand through his hair. He squinted at his watch and cursed. “I have a paper due at ten. I’m not even half done with it. Fuck.”

Derek was frowning at him. “I’ll drive you back to your apartment.”

Stiles scoffed. “I can get back. We brought the jeep.” He gestured widely.

“I’ll drive you back.”

“Whatever.”

 

   
**3**

The apartment was kind of a wreck, but Scott let Derek in to take a nap on the couch before driving back to Beacon Hills. Stiles waved him off and grabbed two Monsters from the fridge, then went to his room.

“I’ll be out in time for class,” he assured Scott, who looked concerned. “I’m fine.” 

“Your eye is twitching.” 

“I’m fine,” he repeated, slamming his bedroom door behind him. 

The upstairs neighbors retaliated by jumping on the floor right above his room. He envisioned them while reading about the victims of the serial killer he was writing about. It made him feel better. 

He finished his paper at a quarter until 10. He printed it out and slipped it into a folder, grabbing his bag and pausing to change his clothes. 

Derek was standing in front of the door. “Stiles, you’re still bleeding .”

He looked at his jeans. “Fuck.” Blood had seeped through the bite on his leg. 

“Sit down. I’ll wrap it, you can change, and I’ll drive you to class.”

Stiles was too jittery to sit, but he could stand while Derek wrapped the wound on his leg. It wasn’t deep, he didn’t think. He didn’t want to look at it.

“Stop fidgeting,” Derek muttered, wiping one of the teeth-marks with an alcohol swab. 

“I’m not,” he snapped back, immediately stilling the jiggling of his leg. He started tapping his fingers on the couch instead.

“Stiles.”

“ _I’m not fidgeting,_ ” he snapped.

Derek stood up. “You’re done. Go get some pants. I’ll wait in the jeep.”

“I can drive myself.”

“I know.” He didn’t wait for him, leaving him standing there fuming.

Tears filled his eyes. He didn’t even know why. 

The drive was short and stony, perfumed with the scent of Monster fizz. 

“I can drive fine.”

“What day is it?” Derek retorted.

“Tuesday.”

“Wednesday.”

Stiles frowned at him. “It’s Tues—no, it is Wednesday. God.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “I’m fine.”

“You slept last on _Sunday_.” 

“Who—Scott,” he growled. “It doesn’t matter. I haven’t been sleeping well anyway. This way, I’m getting stuff done.”

“If you keep going, you’re not going to be able to function, energy drinks or not,” Derek chided.

“I’ve gone longer. You know that.”

“You were sleepwalking and hallucinating. Also, possessed by a thousand-year-old demonic spirit.” 

Stiles got out at the curb. “I’m done with class at 4. Be here,” he said sharply, shouldering his bag and running into the building. 

He turned in his paper and stared glassily toward the front of the class through the whole lecture. Something bumped off his shoulder, but he didn’t even flinch. His fingers were curled around his pen, but he didn’t take notes. He stared with a sort of distant fascination at the professor.

“Dude. Stiles. Wake up.” Scott shook his shoulder.

“I’m not sleeping,” he muttered.

“Class was dismissed two minutes ago. Get up.”

“My eyes are open.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw and yawned. “Did you take notes?” he muttered. 

“Yes.” 

Stiles nodded and stood up. He unzipped his bag and took out a Monster. “What? Mendez doesn’t mind if we have these in her class.”

“Stiles, you’re going to kill yourself with those.” 

“No, I’m going to _pass_ with these. Just until things settle down. I’ve got ethics next. See you for dinner. Maybe not. I might be sleeping.”

“I hope so,” Scott muttered as he walked away.

Isaac was next to him during ethics, though Stiles didn’t remember him having that class. He poked Stiles lightly every time his head nodded forward.

“You should just go home,” Isaac said scornfully. “You’re just sleeping.”

“Not,” Stiles insisted, tipping his head back to keep his eyes open while Mendez opened a discussion with the front row. 

He was usually front row. He was not front row material today. 

“A step away.” Isaac leaned forward and sniffed. “You smell sick.”

“I do not. I just smell tired,” he grumbled, snorting a little. 

He would definitely get some sleep tonight.  
 

 

**4**

His body was obviously trained to recognize when he was free of class. He felt wide awake when he stepped over the threshold. He decided to go to the couch instead of his room, scared he’d trained himself to stay awake in his room. He had about a half-hour before Scott got home, and Derek had dropped him off to get dinner. 

He could take a quick nap. 

Stiles sat on the left corner of the couch, tipping his head back against the cushions. He stared at the ceiling. His bandaged leg itched. His hand hurt where the bites were. He was too hungry to sleep. Maybe he needed ambient noises. Rain or something.

Then he started counting, irritated with himself. His right eye twitched. He tapped his fingers, scratched at his leg where it itched. He needed to get more comfortable. How could he sleep in this position?

Sighing gustily, he threw himself sideways on the couch. He wasn’t far right enough to fit, and his legs were jutting awkwardly over the side. Tears of frustration filled his eyes.

“Why doesn’t anything work?” he whined, shoving himself around until he was laying properly on the couch. 

He didn’t want to lay on the couch. He wanted his bed. 

He heaved himself up.

Derek and Scott came through the door with dinner, talking tensely about a poltergeist.

“What? What’s happening?” Stiles asked, wiping his face.

They both went quiet and stared at him.

“You might as well tell me. I’m the only one who’ll be able to find what you need,” he said tersely. 

“We could call Lydia, let you get some rest,” Scott suggested weakly.

“I’m fine. I rested while you guys were out. Right on the couch.” He pointed at where the throw pillows were mussed. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“There’s a poltergeist that keeps hurting people in a church nearby. I know we don’t usually deal with ghosts and stuff, but someone lost an eye,” Scott said softly.

Stiles nodded. “I’ve read about ghosts before. We need iron and a way to banish it. I’ll check online.” 

Derek watched him with a hard, impassive face. 

“I’ll get some rest after tonight,” he said quietly, brushing his fingers across Derek’s arm as he passed to get his laptop. 

 

The poltergeist was a very pissed off deceased priest. He managed to impale Derek through the leg with a very large cross, and held Scott face first in the holy water while Stiles located the lock of hair that was for some reason in his memorial case. Stiles burned it and watched Scott. 

He came up sputtering, water spewing from his nose and mouth into the fountain. “Oops,” he coughed, looking guiltily into the holy water. 

“I think you can be forgiven,” Stiles said dryly. He rushed to Derek’s side. “Should I just-? Or should Scott-? I’m just gonna let Scott…” He turned his face away, but held onto Derek’s hand while Scott extracted the cross with a hideous squelching noise. He gagged a little.

“It’s healing now. We should get out of here,” Derek muttered, struggling to his feet.

Stiles and Scott helped him to the car.

“What time is it?” Stiles mumbled, sitting in the backseat with Derek.

Scott glanced at the clock, then in the rearview mirror. “It’s 2am.” 

Stiles winced. “I’ve got a Criminal Justice paper due…” 

Scott sighed.  
   


**5**

Stiles wasn’t sure what his paper was on. He wasn’t sure what day it was, or if he hadn’t just fallen asleep at his desk and was dreaming he walked into his classroom. 

“Here you go,” he muttered, thrusting the papers at his teacher. If that was his teacher. He wasn’t sure of anything anymore. 

The human in front of him took the sheaf of papers, looking startled, but they allowed him to shuffle toward a desk and melt into one. He dug a Monster out of his bag and popped it open.

“Mr. Stilinski, are you alright?” 

“Yes. I’m fine. I just need this.” He tipped the can toward the professor in a toast and took three deep gulps. He had two more in his bag. He was set for a couple classes. He blinked blearily around. There were no other students here. 

“Class ended twenty minutes ago,” the professor said slowly, stopping in front of his desk.

He stared uncomprehendingly at the professor. They had a name, he was sure. He just wasn’t sure what it was anymore. He couldn’t expend the brain power to find it. “Oh,” he finally said, realizing they were waiting for an answer.

“You have a class after mine. You’re late.”

“Late?” he repeated dumbly. “Late!” His eyes widened. He jumped up. “I’m late! Sorry—I’m sorry. I’ll make it up, I-I’ve got to go.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” the professor murmured, watching him scramble from the room. 

He bolted through the halls toward his next class, finishing the Monster on the way. He tossed it out and crept into his class.

As usual, the entirety of the class turned to stare as he walked in. The only difference was that he was too dazed, too tired, to care. He slunk to his desk, waving an apology at the professor, who was staring at their phone, looking puzzled. 

The professor waved him off and started the lecture up. 

Stiles’s head smacking into his desk hurt. The professor sent him out of the class. He took a nap in the hallway until someone tripped over his leg when it was time to move to the next class. 

He was so tired he imagined seeing bugs crawling across his desk. He built them a sidewalk with pens from his bag. 

“Stiles,” Scott whispered. “You should just go home.” 

“Scott,” Stiles whispered back loudly, “I am concentrating.” He had to pry his eyes open, unsure of when he’d closed them. The bugs on his desk had disappeared, leaving only the imaginary sidewalk. He shook himself and reached into his bag for another Monster. All he felt were text books and empty cans. 

Swallowing hard, nerves making his throat tight, he dug around, growing more frantic the more he realized he was out. 

“I’m out.” 

“Mr. Stilinski, if you’re bored with this class, please feel free to leave,” the professor said.

Stiles’s head snapped up, staring. 

The professor took a step back, eyes widening. “Or perhaps you should make a doctor’s appointment,” they suggested.

Stiles was seeing double. It was weird. He had been misled by cartoons. The two professors merged together and split at the neck and shoulders. It was creepy.  
 

 

**+1**

“Am I being kidnapped?” Stiles mumbled as arms wrapped around him from behind. “I assure you, there are three very big dogs that will make your life hell if you do.” His head fell back against the shoulder of whoever was kidnapping him. 

“We’re not dogs,” Derek said. He lifted Stiles into the jeep.

Stiles wasn’t sure when they’d gotten outside. “Wasn’t I just going to class?”

“Scott called me. I am abducting you. This is an intervention.” 

“Please don’t. I’m too tired for tissues and stories.” Stiles yawned, settling into the passenger seat. “I missed you. We’ve been too busy for stuff.”

“Stuff can wait until you’re not…this.” Derek looked irritable as they drove through the campus, heading to Stiles’s apartment. 

“This. This _sexy,_ ” Stiles giggled. 

Derek did not laugh. He didn’t speak, either. He just drove them to the apartments. He even carried Stiles up the stairs.

“You’re an awesome super strong boyfriend,” Stiles said dreamily. 

Derek rolled his eyes, nudging Stiles’s head closer to his shoulder as it lolled drunkenly. 

“We going to bed? I can—have another Monster. They’re in the fridge.”

“I’m the only monster you’re getting right now,” Derek said dryly. “Now be quiet.” He dropped Stiles unceremoniously onto his bed and pried his shoes off, then his jeans. 

“Oooh,” Stiles said brightly, but his eyes were closing. He wanted to scratch at his thigh. And fidget in general. 

“Shush,” Derek ordered. He was also stripping, which interested Stiles enough to open his eyes. 

“Are you joining me?” Stiles asked curiously. He managed to keep one eye open. 

“Yes.” Derek climbed onto the bed, nudging Stiles over until he could fit in his favorite spot.

Then, with careful maneuvering of Stiles’s limp body, he rolled him over.

“What are you doing?”

“Shush,” he repeated. He positioned them so Stiles was slumped on top of him, his head tucked under Derek’s chin, cheek pressed tight to his shirt. 

“I-” Stiles started, squirming.

Derek put his arms around his waist, shifted so their legs were tangled together. Then he grabbed a blanket and flung it over them. “Sleep.” He brushed his lips over Stiles’s temple. 

And he was out. 

 

He woke hours later in a pool of his own drool. “Oh my god.” He sat up and wiped at his face, looking down at Derek. “Oh my _god._ ” 

Derek cracked open eye and looked at his shirt. It was soaked. “You were tired,” he said blandly. He wiggled out of the shirt and reached out, pulling Stiles back down. “C’mere. Not done.” 

Stiles laughed and shut his eyes as Derek wrapped around him.


End file.
